


chilled out, top down

by reduxcadeaux (erosindomita)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I made dimitri say the word "mississippi" which feels like a crime, M/M, Mentions of Sylvain's shit family, Mild Angst, Modern AU, the boys drive across the continental united states
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erosindomita/pseuds/reduxcadeaux
Summary: It’s an excellent plan, a last hurrah that no one else knows the significance of; Professor Byleth’s wedding is being held on the opposite side of the country, so why not make a road trip out of it? If Dimitri is the only one that Sylvain can convince to join him, then so be it. It’s about time they made some memories together.Sylvain and Dimitri set out on a journey across the United States.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	chilled out, top down

“This is an awful idea.”  
  
Felix’s stare is resolute and, in Sylvain’s opinion, unfairly judgemental. Ingrid looks about the same as she scans the neatly written itinerary that he’s presented his friends with.

“It isn’t an _awful_ idea, but so close to the professor’s wedding?” she says, sliding the sheet of paper back across the table. “How long have you been planning this?”  
  
“A few weeks,” Sylvain lies. They don’t need to know that he’s spent the past 48 hours digging through travel forums and state tourism guides in a mad dash to piece together a cohesive route for a two week road trip across the country.

Ingrid sighs heavily. “Can’t this wait until we _don’t_ have a looming major event that you’ve already committed to attending?”

“It can’t, actually,” Sylvain replies, keeping his tone overly casual. “None of us are going to be in the same place after the wedding.”  
  
“Next year, then.”  
  
_Who fucking knows what he’ll be able to afford next year._ Sylvain leans back against the apartment’s kitchen counter, gesturing loosely with one hand as he speaks. “There’s no time like the present.”

“I’m not wasting my time trying to get my money back on a non-refundable plane ticket just because you’re hung up on driving across the fucking country.” Felix crosses his arms, disapproving gaze still fixed. “Stick to flying with the rest of us.”  
  
“C’mon, don’t be like that. I’ll get you back for whatever the ticket cost you,” Sylvain tries.  
  
Felix’s frown deepens, and Sylvain wonders why all of his friends are like this. “Even if I took your money, which I won’t, I’m still not going to drop everything I have to do for the next two weeks.”

It’s an unfortunately good point. Sylvain had pondered over how he might be able to counter that particular objection the night before, but to no avail; just because _he’s_ always ready to disappear at a moment’s notice doesn’t mean that everyone else is. He starts to make peace with the fact that he’s going to be embarking on this journey alone as two of his best friends continue to poke holes in his plans. He’ll… Well, he’ll probably be fine. No need to push any further when he knew this was a longshot in the first place. He’s about to say as much out loud, when-

“I could join you, if you’d like.”  
  
Dimitri’s quiet offer is met with looks of disbelief from Felix and Ingrid, and with unbridled delight from Sylvain. He’s stayed silent for most of the discussion, silence for which Sylvain had assumed meant disapproval- apparently not.

“It sounds fun,” he says, somewhat defensively, as he finds himself the new target of Felix and Ingrid’s hard stares. “And I do not have anything pressing scheduled in the coming weeks. That aside, I… I had forgotten to buy a plane ticket myself, so I was going to be in need of transportation regardless.”

“Don’t use your stupidity to enable him,” Felix snaps. “You can afford to get a ticket last minute.”  
  
“Felix is right, Dimitri,” Ingrid says desperately. “And I’m sure Professor Byleth would want to make sure you both arrive at their wedding in one piece.”  
  
“Professor Byleth is a forest cryptid and you know it. He’d be all over a cross country drive,” Sylvain retorts. He turns to Dimitri with a grin on his face, one that Dimitri rather sheepishly returns. “I always knew you were cooler than them.”

Ingrid buries her face in her hands and groans.

-

Sylvain isn’t sure why he doesn’t tell them right then and there. It’s not as if he’ll be able to hide it after the fact. Maybe he just doesn’t want to make waves before Professor Byleth’s wedding; it’s only polite to let him and that weird fiance of his have their moment, isn’t it? And that aside, it’ll probably be easier to break the news once he’s gotten himself established on his own and proven that he’ll be able to manage after effectively disowning himself.

It’s been a long time coming.

Everything about Miklan’s existence was already reason enough for Sylvain to cut ties with his biological family. And even if he hadn’t been forced to keep his mouth shut and play dumb when his shit for brains brother finally went and got himself arrested, his relegation to little more than a means to an end by his parents and all of the suffocating pretense and expectation that came along with it was just the cherry on top of the proverbial sundae. For years now, there’s been an ugly, destructive siren song echoing in the back of his head saying the only proper reciprocation for it all would be to burn everything to the ground. Pretend to care about the family business just to tank it from the inside out. Waste all of the time and money and resources that he can. It’s tempting.

Unfortunately he’s not stupid, and he knows that acting on those impulses wouldn’t only hurt himself and his parents. It’s all he can do to drown out his worst instincts and console himself with the fact that his father cares far too much about putting on airs for the rest of the world, a veneer of respectability that’ll undoubtedly be shaken by Sylvain’s disappearing act. He can just imagine the clipped, curt tone that’ll try to explain everything away when people ask why neither Gautier boy is involved in the family business, they had such potential, isn’t it a shame?

Sylvan loses himself in future promises of schadenfreude as he packs his bags the night before their departure. He’s folding and refolding clothes in an attempt to settle his nerves, he’s looking around his bedroom with the knowledge that this is, in all likelihood, one of the last times he’ll occupy this space. It never really felt like home, but he’s tethered to it by familiarity if nothing else.

He wonders what it’ll be like on his own. What it’ll feel like to not have to worry about walking in the door after a long day. He wonders if he’ll feel any need to even bother coming home. He wonders what he’ll be outside of the rigid framework he’s spent his life trying to ignore.

Who knows.

So despite the best efforts of Felix and Ingrid (and a cautiously supportive but nevertheless concerned call from Dedue that Dimitri receives before they set off), Sylvain gets to see his plan set in motion. Dimitri texts him a few days prior to let him know that he's "looking forward to our journey :)" which somehow comes off as sincere despite the fact that it would sound disingenuous from literally anyone else. It’s still surprising that he agreed to come in the first place- Dimitri has never shied away from chastising him before, so the idea of him joining in on an impulsive, last minute trip across the country still feels a bit surreal.

Sylvain briefly considers the possibility that Dimitri might have something he’s running from as well.

...probably not. He isn’t entirely up to speed, but he at least knows that Dimitri’s been good about keeping up with things like therapy and talking about his feelings over the past few years. Even if it feels somewhat out of character for him, maybe he really did just fancy the idea of a road trip. Sylvain figures there’s no need to look a gift horse in the mouth. As such, it’s with a cautious sense of optimism that he steals away from his house at dawn. His parents are still asleep as he's pulling out of the driveway- not that they normally pay much mind to him leaving the house, but it’s convenient to not have to explain all of his luggage. With any luck, they won’t notice his absence at all.

Dimitri is packed and ready when he arrives and, since he politely refuses an offer to help him with his bags, Sylvain takes a moment to shoot off a message to their groupchat. He’s under strict orders to check in regularly along the way, lest Ingrid make good on a promise to hunt them down and drag them home. He’s pretty sure she was joking. He does not want to find out.

They set off as dawn gives way to proper daylight.

-

Sylvain is rather concerned that this may have been a mistake.

It could just be that they’re both tired, what with how early it is, but any attempts at casual conversation keep dying off and fizzling out. Sylvain offers to buy them breakfast; Dimitri has already eaten. There’s a swirling, sticky tension in the air that only continues to build the further they drive.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Dimitri, or that he doesn’t trust him, or anything too serious. Dimitri is a good guy. Sylvain likes him. That said, he can’t remember the last time that they hung out as just the two of them. It’s always in a group setting, with other people and things going on around them acting as a buffer; it’s always the polar opposite of spending hours alone together on the road. And Sylvain somewhat painfully realizes that aside from a sort of vague sense that he’s okay, he hasn’t really known what’s been going on with Dimitri for a long while now. Not the coolest friend move, that.

Neither of them say much as they continue along the highway. Dimitri has busied himself with a book - some nondescript fantasy novel, from what Sylvain can tell - and Sylvain has resigned himself to humming along to the radio as he drives. The roadside scenery is nice enough, but still dull in its familiarity.

This really might’ve been a mistake. Do they just have two weeks of stilted conversation and awkward car rides to look forward to? He’s pretty sure that they can at least manage to get by, but there’s something sad about confronting the fact that he and Dimitri might just... not be all that compatible.

Sylvain is so lost in thought that he nearly misses it, but he just barely manages to catch when the 69th mile marker whizzes by. The murmured _nice_ that escapes his lips is practically involuntary.

The sound of Dimitri’s amused huff in response feels like the sun coming out after a thunderstorm.

-

And so it gets a little better. Something about finding common ground in an exceedingly juvenile sense of humor makes it easier to talk to a guy.

“I have to admit,” Dimitri says, glancing over from his book, “I’m still rather curious as to what brought this on.”  
  
Sylvain hums. “Just thought it’d be fun. An excuse to travel across the country doesn’t exactly pop up every day, you know?”  
  
“I suppose not.”

“Besides,” Sylvain continues. “I could ask you the same thing. I kinda figured I was out of luck asking everyone so last minute.”

“Mm… Well, as you said, an opportunity like this doesn’t arise very often. And regardless, I was going to have to find transportation one way or another.”

“Fair enough.”

-

A proper lunch later that day is forgone in favor of something quick, and so they pull off of the highway to stock up on junk food and water bottles at a gas station. Sylvain still isn’t entirely in love with the idea of eating inside his car, but he’s made peace with the fact that it was going to have to happen at some point. (He packed a hand vacuum. It’ll be fine.)

They don’t linger for very long; they’ve got a campsite reservation at a state park to keep for tomorrow, so once they’ve finished perusing the aisles and have bought up a decent stash of snacks, it’s back out onto the road once more.

It hasn’t been more than a few minutes when Sylvain has to steel his nerves at the crinkle of a wrapper being torn open. _This is fine. Eating in a car is normal. It’s fine._ He glances at Dimitri, who… is holding his book, and very much not unwrapping a cheap gas station cinnamon roll.

What.

“Hey, Dimitri. Did you hear that?”  
  
Dimitri looks up, tilting his head in confusion. “Hear what?”  
  
“It sounded like you opened something, but- there, that!” Sylvain exclaims as another rustle of plastic cuts him off.

“Ah. I’d thought that was you, actually,” Dimitri replies. He sits up so he can crane his head to look in the backseat. “I’m not sure-”

Sylvain can see Dimitri frozen in place out of the corner of his eye but, frustratingly, not whatever caused him to clam up. “What? Don’t tell me a mouse got in the car or something.”  
  
“N… No.”

“Dude, please don’t make me play twenty questions here.”  
  
“Wait, I wanna play! Can I play?” responds a very soft, very high pitched voice that most assuredly does not belong to Dimitri, and Sylvain nearly jerks them off of the road. Wide eyed, he angles the rearview mirror down to see a small child pop up from the floor of his car.

_What._

Dimitri turns to Sylvain with the most genuine expression of panic that he thinks he’s ever seen on another human being and Sylvain can only assume that he’s matching it himself.

“How did… When did we…”  
  
“I have no f- I have no idea,” Sylvain says, desperately scanning the road ahead for somewhere he can turn around. “Did we leave the doors unlocked at the gas station?”  
  
“I can only assume so?”

“Hey, I wanna play the game,” the kid pouts.

“U-uh… Okay, sure, we can play,” Sylvain says quickly. He mouths for Dimitri to shut up and play along. “What’s your name, kiddo?”  
  
“I’m Maya! I’m five years old,” she says proudly, holding up her hand for emphasis.

Sylvain isn’t a religious man, but he says a quick prayer to whatever deities might be listening before pulling an incredibly not-legal U turn. “Five, huh? That’s a pretty good number. I’m Sylvain, and this is my friend Dimitri.”

Maya giggles. “That’s a funny name! Hi, mister ‘mitri.”

“Hello, Maya,” Dimitri says weakly.

Sylvain drums his fingers against the steering wheel as they exit the highway once more. If she really had gotten into the car at the gas station, then with any luck her parents should still be there... “So, Maya, do you know how to play twenty questions?”  
  
“Um… No,” she admits, looking dejected. “I’m sorry.”  
  
His heart jumps up into his throat when the gas station finally comes into view. He’s a little surprised to not see any cop cars as he pulls in, although he supposes they’ve only been gone for around ten minutes. “Oh, that’s okay. I don’t mind teaching you, but I think you’d probably have more fun learning from your parents.”

“Aw, but Mom and Dad are boring,” she grumbles, crossing her arms. “They wanna go to the big furniture store, an’ I hate it there.”  
  
“That sounds rough, buddy… Hey, can you do me a little favor and hang out here with Dimitri for a sec? I need to go, ah, buy something real quick.”

Maya nods, her attention turning to the snack she’d pilfered earlier as Sylvain nearly trips over himself while scrambling out of the car and into the store. He’s greeted by the sight of a couple in tears, on the phone with what he can only assume are the police, and a gas station attendant who looks as if their soul has left their body.

It works out. The gas station has CCTV footage of Maya climbing into his car after he and Dimitri had gone inside, and her poor parents are just grateful to have her back in one piece. She bids them goodbye with a yell of “Bye, mister ‘mitri! Bye, mister Sylvia!”, and they’re deemed free to go not long after. They’re able to laugh about it after the adrenaline wears off, late that night when they’re settling down in a motel. If Sylvain happens to leave this incident out of his report back to the groupchat, well, that’s his and Dimitri’s business and no one else’s.

Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

-

Camping for a few days really is the diversion they need after the whole “almost kidnapping a child” thing. They’re not completely isolated - the campgrounds are pretty full when they arrive, actually - but it feels enough like being out in the wilderness that it works. Sylvain is just grateful that he was able to snag them a campsite on such short notice. He’s making his way over with the last of the things they’ll need from the car when a sharp, loud snap rings out from where Dimitri is setting up their tent; it’s startling enough that Sylvain drops his bag. “Dimitri-”  
  
Dimitri, his dear childhood friend who has somehow still not fully grasped the extent of his own strength after all these years, is holding the snapped-off head of a hammer in one hand and it’s forlorn wooden handle in the other and he looks absolutely mortified.

“...Oh my god, dude.”

“I… How did it…”

“Do you even need a hammer for that sort of tent?”

Dimitri hesitantly reaches for the instructions laying next to him and leafs through the pages. “...Yes. Most assuredly. At no point did I misread any of these directions,” he mumbles.

“Oh yeah?” Sylvain replies, stifling a laugh as he walks over. “Here, lemme see them so I can help-”  
  
“No need!”

-

It’s pretty smooth sailing after that, and their little campsite is successfully put together before sundown. It feels fitting to celebrate by roasting marshmallows over a fire, something that neither of them have done in a very long time. They’re seated side by side in cheap folding chairs, oversized marshmallows skewered on crooked sticks, thin trails of smoke swirling in the relatively cool early evening air as they relax.

“Still can’t believe you broke that hammer.”  
  
Dimitri snorts. “I gave my word that I would handle the tent, and it is still standing,” he replies, before turning somewhat serious. “But still, I apologize. I will buy you a new one as soon as possible.”  
  
“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Sylvain pulls his marshmallow back from the fire for inspection. “I’ll get to tell Ingrid and Felix how you snapped it in half while trying to put up a tent that’s supposed to take five minutes to assemble, so I figure that’s enough to call us even.”

“...Are you sure that you wouldn’t prefer I replace the hammer?”  
  
Sylvain’s laughter almost makes him choke on his marshmallow.

-

There’s a breeze flowing through the foliage above the hiking trail that he and Dimitri are making their way down the next day. The rustling leaves cast shifting shadows across the ground, and it’s quiet enough to hear songbirds in the trees. Even with the aching protest that Sylvain feels slowly building up in his thighs (and the summer heat beginning to intensify as the day goes on), he has to appreciate how peaceful it is out here. He isn’t sure how much he’d like being in the middle of nowhere day in and day out, but a change of pace every so often doesn’t hurt.

Still, Sylvain considers that he may need to lay off of needling Felix over his two hour morning runs. He could really use that sort of cardio prowess right about now.

Dimitri, for his part, really seems to be in his element. He’d woken up before Sylvain this morning, eager to see more of the park, and has taken at least a dozen photos of the scenery during their hike. When Sylvain comments on his enthusiasm, he explains that setting aside time to be out among nature was one of the first practices he’d adopted after resuming therapy; apparently it’s been a big help.

“Hey, whatever works. I’m glad you’ve got things going for you, buddy,” Sylvain tells him. He means it.

The trail continues on through the trees and eventually comes to wind around a lake, the sandy lakeside interrupted by a somewhat rickety looking wooden pier. The sun is high in the sky by the time they reach the water, leaving Sylvain acutely aware of just how unused to actual hot summer weather he is. It’s the slightest bit gratifying when Dimitri is the one to suggest they take a breather.

Sylvain stretches his arms above his head with a groan as they reach the pier’s edge. “Might’ve underestimated how hot it would be today.”

He catches out of the corner of his eye that Dimitri has a _look_ on his face. “Is that so?”  
  
“Uh, yeah. It doesn’t bother you?”

“I suppose it does.” And Dimitri’s next movement is so quick, so fluid that Sylvain barely has a chance to register what’s happening before he’s being lifted off the ground. “Allow me to assist us both, my friend,” Dimitri tells him, and it’s all the warning he gets before he’s flying through the air and crashing into the lake with a yell. Dimitri himself follows a moment later, waving at Sylvain under the water before they surface.

“You- you son of a bitch,” Sylvain manages. He would’ve probably ended up going for a swim one way or another, but damn if his heart isn’t racing from having been _thrown into a lake from a pier._ He might’ve been a little miffed were it not for the bright, stupid grin on Dimitri’s face that he’s failing miserably at not returning.

“Is it still too hot?” Dimitri asks with an innocent tilt of his head. It’s remarkable how much a fully grown man can resemble a golden retriever.

Sylvain finds that the only proper response is to flick water into his face, which Dimitri returns in kind. This very quickly escalates from a skirmish of light sprays to a real and proper battle, a fight of truly epic and stunningly foolish proportions that pauses only for them to make their way to shallower waters that they can stand up in to continue.

It’s _fun._ For a brief spell of time, Sylvain forgets about all of the doubts and worries hovering over him; he just gets to lose himself, hundreds of miles from home, in this bubble of childish revelry with his friend. He’s laughing like an idiot as he gives chase and is chased in turn, he outright cackles when he stumbles and manages to drag Dimitri down with him into the water.

“I believe… I believe that a truce is in order,” Dimitri gasps while he attempts to right himself. He offers Sylvain his hand once he’s to his feet.

Sylvain snickers and accepts, pulling himself up. “Don’t start things you can’t finish, buddy.”  
  
“I seem to recall you splashing me first.”

“Yeah, after you _threw me_ ,” Sylvain retorts, lightly shoving Dimitri’s shoulder as they make their way back to the shore.

“And now you are no longer too hot. I fail to see any issues here.”

“Whatever, dude. You’re just lucky you’re cute.”

-

Dimitri is the one who notices that the next town they pass through boasts about hosting “one of America’s most terrifying haunted houses” all year round, and somehow the idea of a town’s primary tourist trap being an all-seasons haunted house is… kinda funny. Funny enough that after they secure lodging, they decide to go check it out. It’s probably just a bunch of bored teenagers in shitty costumes, anyways- how scary could it be?

-

There is a very good reason that it’s the town’s main attraction.  
  
At least they get a good reaction shot out of it.

-

For some god awful reason, Sylvain still finds himself on edge well after they’ve left the haunted house. And keeping it together is straightforward enough while it’s still daylight out, but even long summer days eventually have to give way to nightfall. It’s cold comfort to realize that Dimitri is just as spooked, judging by how badly he’s startled back in the motel when his own phone goes off with a reminder to take his medication.

At least they can be big scared babies together.

Sylvain exhales as he flops back onto one of the twin beds and throws his forearm over his eyes, a wry smile on his face. “You remember that time we accidentally got into Glenn’s horror movie collection?”  
  
Dimitri groans, the other bed squeaking under him as he sits down. “How could I forget? He held it over our heads for months afterwards.”  
  
“He sure did, didn’t he? That bastard.”

“Although I suppose that night wasn’t all bad,” Dimitri continues. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Felix and Ingrid get along so well before or since.”

“They didn’t have a choice. It was either play nice or go suffer by yourself,” Sylvain snorts. “And I guess it did kinda help to be all piled up in the living room together.”  
  
Dimitri hums his agreement.

“I’d say we should try that again, but we’re not little kids anymore.”  
  
“...That is true.”  
  
“And neither of us are still scared of some dumb haunted house.”  
  
“Of course not.”

“So we’re fine.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“This is where you call my bluff so that I have an excuse to shove these beds together.”

Dimitri’s shoulders shake as he laughs.

They end up shoving the beds together, and fall asleep feeling just a bit safer than they would’ve felt alone.

-

Sylvain is rather accustomed to waking up next to a body that he doesn’t remember laying down with, so when he comes to the next day and realizes that there’s a pair of arms around him, he isn’t immediately alarmed. As far as mornings after go, this one is particularly comfortable. It’s very tempting to just go back to bed. But when the previous day’s events resurface through the haze of sleep and he remembers that it’s Dimitri who’s using him as a teddy bear, a weird, warm _something_ curls up in his chest.

He pulls himself out of the bed before Dimitri has a chance to wake up, and goes to take a cold shower. It’s too early for emotions.

-

Dimitri is a good person. On a fundamental sort of level, Dimitri is a good person that cares about doing right. And as much as the world has put him and his innate sense of justice through the wringer, he’s still the kind, compassionate soul that he was as a child. It’s very admirable, all things considered- certainly so as far as Sylvain is concerned.

It just isn’t the most convenient trait to have while two patrons of the Waffle House they’ve stopped at are having the loudest possible argument at the end of the counter.

All that Sylvain and Dimitri had wanted was a quick meal, and this was the first place they’d found after pulling off of the highway. It should’ve been a complete non-event, maybe the slightest bit noteworthy for being Dimitri’s first time at the chain, nothing more than a chance to take a breather outside of the car before getting back on the road.

Sylvain winces when one of the combatants slams a cup down to punctuate a sentence. The kid behind the counter can’t be older than 16, and they look absolutely terrified- their hands are shaking as they attempt to pour batter into an iron. He can’t recall the last time he saw another server, either, leading him to the unfortunate conclusion that the kid is, at least for the time being, stuck on their shift alone.

Judging by the tense set of his shoulders and his less than subtle glances at the increasingly belligerent customers, Dimitri has probably realized the same thing.

“Might not be a bad idea to stick around for a while,” Sylvain murmurs. “Until things cool off.”

Dimitri nods. His brow is furrowed, and Sylvain gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before turning back to his food.

It’s at that moment that they hear the sound of shattering glass.

Everything that follows blurs together. The men at the counter are to their feet, shards of broken glass littering the ground; they’re already struggling with hands on each other by the time Sylvain looks up. The kid at the waffle iron shrieks. A breath, and one manages to send the other stumbling backwards with a rough, clumsy blow to the throat. Another breath, and a chair clatters to the floor as they lunge back at each other. A third, and Sylvain registers that Dimitri is probably about to-

Dimitri is up, Dimitri is grabbing the man nearest to him by the shirt and yanking him away, and Sylvain is cursing under his breath as he follows to shove the other man back while Dimitri makes quick work of restraining the poor schmuck he got to first.

“Alright, alright. Some of us are just trying to eat.”

The man in Dimitri’s arms struggles, shouting something about disrespect; Dimitri responds by holding him up off the floor. The other man hesitates, seeming unsure as to whether or not he wants to risk the same fate. And then he calls out in a language that Sylvain doesn’t know, but it sounds slavic. Russian, maybe? At least he seems less on edge, whatever he’s saying.

Dimitri’s guy still sounds heated when he responds. Before Sylvain can say anything himself, though, he’s cut off by Dimitri, who is… also speaking Russian. Which is apparently something that he’s able to do. Huh.

The two men seem just as surprised as this development, and Sylvain steps back to watch in mild awe. Dimitri lets the man in his arms (Alex, it sounds like?) down, and the three of them converse for a minute or two before apparently coming to some sort of agreement. Alex’s companion tosses some cash onto the counter, and they take their leave.

Dimitri’s shoulders sag as the door closes behind them. “Thank goodness,” he sighs.

“Dude. Bro. My guy. What?”  
  
“I, ah, can explain in the car? But first-” Dimitri turns to the kid behind the counter. “Please accept my apologies for all of this. They should not be back to bother you here any time soon.”  
  
“N-no! Or, um, I mean, you… Th-thank you so much,” they stammer. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you two hadn’t been here.”

Sylvain affectionately claps Dimitri on the back. “Please, that was all him.”  
  
Dimitri rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly as he glances aside. “I’m just grateful that no one was hurt.”

“M-me too... I wish there was something I could do to- oh, oh, I know! Do you guys want some waffles for the road?”

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly-”  
  
“It’s no trouble, I promise!” the kid says intently. “It’ll just be a few minutes.”  
  
“...If you insist.”

-

Sylvain is just barely able to restrain his curiosity until they’re back in the car. “Alright, I _really_ need to know what went down back there.”

Dimitri huffs. “I fear that you may be somewhat disappointed. All I did was ask them to explain what they were fighting about, and they realized that neither of them truly knew what the conflict was.”  
  
“I can believe that. But since when do you speak Russian? That was Russian, wasn’t it?”  
  
“It was. And…” Dimitri looks down at his hands, an odd little smile on his face. “My father taught me when I was young.”  
  
The mention of Lambert feels like having the wind knocked out of him, but if Dimitri can bring him up casually then Sylvain won’t make a big deal out of it either. “Huh. Do you know if he wanted you to be able to speak with extended family or something?”

Dimitri laughs. “I can assure you that there is not a drop of Russian in me, my friend. He was simply very enthusiastic about the language.”

“Wha- seriously? So, what, he taught you Russian and gave you the most Russian name in existence just because he thought it was cool?”  
  
“That is what I’ve come to understand, yes.”

Sylvain is smiling as he shakes his head. “And here you are years later, putting his hard work to use in a fucking Waffle House.”  
  
Dimitri rests his head against the window. “I’d like to think he would be pleased.”  
  
“I’m sure he would be.”

-

Sylvain is beginning to understand why so many travel guides recommend booking at least some lodging in advance, because their luck finding motels with vacancies was bound to run out eventually. Case in point-

The receptionist gives them a sympathetic, if rather tired, look. “Sorry, sugar, but it’s tourist season. Best I can do for you boys is a single with some extra pillows.”

Sylvain glances over at Dimitri, who just shrugs and nods.

Well.

He’s shared a bed with worse.

-

It’s the second time this trip that Sylvain wakes up in Dimitri’s arms. He doesn’t force himself out of bed early this time.

(They decide to keep sharing beds from here on out.)

-

“How long did you need again?”  
  
Dimitri checks something on his phone. “It will be about forty-five minutes at most- perhaps a bit shorter. I will let you know as soon as we’ve finished.”

”Hey, don’t feel like you need to rush or anything. I promise you that I can keep myself entertained for a while,” Sylvain says with a wink. The smile that Dimitri gives him in return is a bit exasperated, but grateful nonetheless.

“Thank you again. Please do at least try to keep out of trouble.”  
  
“No promises,” Sylvain replies, giving Dimitri a pat on the shoulder before sliding out of the car. He keeps his wallet and his phone, but leaves the keys.

Now, to find something to occupy himself with while Dimitri has a video call with his therapist. A quick search on his phone tells him that the city they’re in has quite the charming Main Street, and it’s close enough to where they’ve parked that he should be able to go for a stroll without wandering too far. It’s a nice enough day, warm with a light breeze and blue skies with puffy white clouds… Not much to complain about.

His walk ends up being more window shopping than anything else. After seeing the same dozen chain restaurants and stores over and over while driving from coast to coast, poking around an eclectic array of local shops is a much-needed change of pace. He comes across a secondhand bookstore with dusty, mismatched shelves and the biggest collection of Finnish language books he’s ever seen in one place (granted, the last collection of Finnish language books he’d seen consisted of exactly two books, but still. there’s a lot of them here). There’s an occult supply store filled with wide-eyed teenagers wearing all black despite the summer heat. He’s particularly taken by a hole-in-the-wall art gallery; the current exhibition is a series of various local artists’ renditions of a ballerina in motion. They’re clearly all based on the same woman, but each one is done in a different medium and carries its own unique energy and mood.

Time fades away as he takes them all in. He gets himself so thoroughly lost in the experience that he doesn’t snap out of his reverie until his phone buzzes in his pocket; assuming that it's Dimitri letting him know that his appointment is over, Sylvain pulls it out-

Ah.

He was wondering how long he'd be able to go before his parents noticed he was gone.

-

Dimitri knows that something’s up. Sylvain is pretty sure that he doesn’t know what, specifically, but Dimitri definitely knows that there’s something amiss when Sylvain returns to the car.

They both try to ignore it for a while, which… sort of works. Neither of them are a stranger to the idea of wanting to keep certain things private, and Sylvain assures himself that if Dimitri asks he could easily chalk up his skittishness to a particularly messy breakup. Sure, he usually doesn’t mope over them for long. Sure, he’s never particularly shy about when relationships go south. But Sylvain knows how to lie, particularly by omission, so he’s sure it’ll be fine.

Turns out lying to a guy that you’re driving across the country with is pretty difficult.

The texts and calls and voicemails start slow, but ramp up to roll in faster and faster as the day goes on; he’s very quickly forced to start leaving his phone on silent. It’s a slew of messages, mostly from his father, asking what he thinks he’s doing and why is he such a disappointment. Sylvain is tempted to respond with “genetics”, but doesn’t. He decides that he’ll just have to treat this as a test run for when he really does up and leave.

He’s still being bombarded the next day. Dimitri, to his credit, attempts to pulls his attention elsewhere as they drive- they actually end up having a pretty engaging discussion about Soviet-era ice hockey, but the mood is broken when Sylvain has to check his phone for directions and sees a particularly nasty (and poorly typed) message from his father. He must be pulling a face, because Dimitri finally tries to ask if anything’s wrong.

“Huh? Oh, nah, I’m fine. My old man just wanted to know if I’d heard anything about a shipment at work that he’s waiting on.”

If Dimitri doesn’t believe him, he doesn’t say it. 

The next day is quantifiably worse. The sky starts off dreary and grey in the morning and refuses to give way to the rain that’s supposedly on the horizon as the hours drag onwards. Sylvain’s mother starts trying with him now, asking him to come back home so that they can talk about things. It’s always been harder to muster up resentment against her- she’s had to deal with being married to his piece of shit father for over two decades, after all. And with this being one of the few days on their itinerary that’s primarily devoted to nothing but driving..., he’s left well and truly stuck.

Dimitri has resigned himself back to reading his book. Sylvain can’t help feeling guilty, especially since things had gotten way more comfortable since the start of the trip, but what is he supposed to say? _Hey man, sorry to be a bummer but I’m disowning myself in like a week, can we pretend that my parents don’t exist until then?_

Dimitri again attempts to ask if something’s the matter after four missed calls flash on Sylvain’s phone within the span of an hour, and the sharpness with which Sylvain tells him that _nothing’s wrong_ surprises them both. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and chalks it up to just wanting to make it to their next destination. A particularly nasty voice in his head snarks that Dimitri should just be grateful that he isn’t the one doing all of the driving which, holy shit, Sylvain reminds himself is not Dimitri’s fault. This was Sylvain’s idea in the first place, he knew what he was getting into, and it sure as hell isn’t Dimitri’s fault that he got stabbed in the fucking eye.

The cloud cover stays thick enough that it’s difficult to judge the passage of time, and the fast food lunch they’d eaten earlier is doing little to help him power through the evening. When they decide to just call it a day and find somewhere to spend the night, all Sylvain can think about is laying down and sleeping off this gross mood he’s found himself in.

The first motel they find is fully booked.

As is the second one they find 20 miles away.

By their third failure, it’s past midnight. Sylvain is about ready to rip his hair out and Dimitri isn’t faring much better. They’re forced to pull into a truck stop to nap; it’s nearly 2 am once they’re back out on the road. Sylvain isn’t even happy when they finally find a place to stay- he just wants the day to be over. The room is paid for, and they drive down the street to a diner to shove some food down their throats before they finally get to sleep.

Neither of them pay much attention to what they order. The poor woman working the graveyard shift looks like she wants to ask after their wellbeing, but elects to keep quiet and spend as little time near their table as possible when she’s taking down their orders and dropping their food off in what feels like seconds. Considering what a mess they both must look, Sylvain gets it.

The whole day has really taken its toll on him. He’s somehow both completely out of it and also hyper aware of every sound and sensation around him as he eats, from Dimitri shaking his leg underneath the table to the hum of an air conditioner to the buzz of the lights above them. It’s making his head spin.

“-all day.”  
  
Sylvain blinks a few times. “Uh… Did you say something?”  
  
Dimitri sighs. “I said that I have been worried about you all day.”  
  
Fucking hell. “Not this again, man,” Sylvain groans. “I told you, aside from the obvious right now, I’m fine.”  
  
“And how many calls from your parents do you intend to ignore?”  
  
“From my- what, you don’t believe me so you’re going through my phone?”  
  
Dimitri visibly bristles. “I do not need to go through your phone to see it constantly lighting up in the car,” he says tersely. “It has been almost three days of this.”

Sylvain hears something metallic creaking from… something. He can’t tell. “Yeah, sure,” he mutters, knowing perfectly well that Dimitri hasn’t touched his phone. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on.”

“I am just concerned that-”

What the hell is that sound? He can feel a headache building behind his eyes. “There’s nothing to be _concerned_ about, so drop it already.I don’t need you making up problems where there aren’t any.”

Dimitri exhales sharply.

Sylvain realizes with a little start that the source of the creaking is the metal fork that Dimitri’s managed to crush in one hand. He drops it against the table with a clatter.

“Do you assume that I’m blind?” he practically growls. “Do you think so lowly of me that you’re perfectly comfortable lying to my face? _Something is wrong._ If you refuse to admit what it is, then just tell me that you don’t want to talk to me about it. Anything other than this infuriating feigned ignorance you have on display.”

Were he a little more coherent, a little more concerned with anything other than the present moment, Sylvain might’ve been able to find a better way to mollify Dimitri’s frustratingly justified anger without actually having to admit to anything. As he is now, though, weary and sleep deprived and about ready to throw something at the shitty fluorescent lights above them just to get them to _stop that awful fucking buzzing that’s making his ears ring_ -

He looks at the fork that bore the brunt of Dimitri’s wrath, and he relents.

“Fucking… fine. Okay.” Sylvain presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to steady himself. “Just let me finish eating and I’ll talk in the car. Promise.”  
  
Dimitri drums his fingers against the table, and Sylvain finds himself holding his breath until the man sighs heavily. “Very well.”

Not wanting to push his luck any further (and with their argument having done little to dampen his appetite), Sylvain makes quick work of scarfing down the rest of his food. Their waitress is nowhere to be seen- not that he could really blame her for making herself scarce after the scene they made of themselves. He elects to just leave a hundred dollar bill under the napkin holder and hope that it’s enough to make up for the trouble.

Neither of them say anything as they leave the diner. Sylvain doesn’t think they’ve ever gotten this tense with each other, although that might just be because they’ve never been close enough to find something to go at it over in the first place. Hell of a milestone.

He can practically feel Dimitri’s expectant stare on his back as they approach the car. And he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. It feels… wrong, gratuitously callous almost, to tell _Dimitri_ of all people that he’s up and cutting himself out of his family when Dimitri’s had been taken from him by force. Even if he knows that Sylvain’s family is the shitshow that it is. He’d be far more on edge if he weren’t so drained.

The sky is entirely obscured by grey, rolling cloud cover, leaving flickering street lamps as the only things breaking the early morning’s thick wash of darkness. The parking lot is, unsurprisingly, still empty. Sylvain hesitates for a moment as they approach the car, then waves for Dimitri to follow him to the curb a few yards away. He takes an unceremonious seat before his legs can give out, and Dimitri joins him.

“Well?”  
  
Sylvain leans back on his hands, staring up at the clouds. “This stays between you and me, alright?”

“...If that is what it takes to get you to speak,” Dimitri replies, his voice sounding somewhat hesitant, “then I will give you my word.”  
  
“Don’t worry, anyone who needs to know is gonna find out soon enough,” Sylvain says dismissively. “So, uh… why I’ve been so antsy. Why I wanted to go on this trip in the first place, actually.”  
  
This really is how he’s about to say it, out loud and to someone else, for the first time, huh? In some ramshackle diner’s parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Absolutely brilliant. He casts a glance at Dimitri before he continues.

“I’m cutting my family off. After the wedding.”

Any lingering hurt and anger melts off of Dimitri’s face, replaced by concerned confusion. “And what does that entail?”  
  
Sylvain huffs. “Oh, you know. Moving out, going no contact, presumably getting written out of wills, the works. Bet Miklan wishes he’d waited a few more years to try and kill me, huh?”  
  
He was not ready for this conversation in the slightest. And he was especially not ready for Dimitri to look so sad and worried on his behalf. Sylvain carries on before he loses his nerve, propelled by sleep deprived delirium.

“That’s why I wanted to drive across the country with everyone. One last hurrah while I’ve still got access to my old man’s money, you know?”

“Sylvain-”  
  
“But it’s my own fault for asking last minute, so whatever. Everything’s gonna be done in a few weeks anyways.” Sylvain laughs harshly. “Man. If only Ingrid and Felix knew how on the fucking money they were, calling this a stupid idea.”  
  
“ _Sylvain._ ”

Sylvain finally forces himself to look Dimitri in the eye.

“Does anyone else know about this?” Dimitri asks. He’s speaking slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to scare off a skittish horse.

“Nope. And listen, I’m sorry for making you worry, but I’m not backing off this-”  
  
“I am not asking you to,” Dimitri says firmly. “I am just… Sylvain, that is an incredible burden to force yourself to shoulder alone.”  
  
Sylvain offers him a lopsided grin. “I’ve got pretty strong arms.”

Dimitri doesn’t seem to appreciate his wordplay.

“Sooo, now you know how much of a selfish bastard I am. Sorry you’re still stuck out here with me.”

Dimitri lifts his hand. It wavers in the space between them for a moment before coming to rest on Sylvain’s shoulder. “I will not presume to understand exactly what has pushed you to the point of making such a drastic decision,” he starts. “Nor will I attempt to promise that everything will work out nicely from here on out.”  
  
Sylvain thinks he feels a raindrop fall onto the bridge of his nose.

Dimitri continues. “But I very firmly believe that you deserve to be happy. If that means no longer interacting with your blood relatives, then I will support you in any way that I can. And I know that there are many more people who will say the same.”

That’s definitely another raindrop rolling down the back of his neck. “Dunno how I feel about putting you out over my own stupid decisions, but… thanks.”

Dimitri gently tilts Sylvain’s face towards his. “Taking care of yourself is not a ‘stupid decision’.”

He isn’t sure why that’s the thing that does him in. And in some divinely ridiculous bullshit act of fate, the heavens above them opens up at the same time that Sylvain does. Really, he can’t tell if he’s crying or laughing as he’s drenched to the bone- it feels poetic, whatever it is.

If Dimitri finds this in any way concerning, he doesn’t let it show. His hand drops and finds Sylvain’s; Sylvain grips it tight enough to bruise as he screams at the sky.

The rocket fuel in his chest runs itself dry eventually. The rest of him is very thoroughly soaked.

-

The delirious euphoria of getting caught in the rain is still thrumming through Sylvain's body by the time they get back to the motel. It isn't until he's locking their room door behind them and tossing his bag down by the bed that exhaustion starts to seep back into his bones, held at bay only by his desire to not be cold and wet for any longer than necessary. And yet when Dimitri tries to offer him first use of the bathroom, Sylvain waves him off and insists Dimitri take his time. He feels like it’s the least he can do.

Later, after he and Dimitri both have had a chance to take lukewarm showers and change into dry clothes to sleep in, Sylvain finds that he's still processing the day's events. He truly hadn't anticipated telling Dimitri -or anyone else- about what he was planning until after the fact. Evidently, he also hadn't anticipated Dimitri being the right combination of perceptive and direct needed to get the truth out of him. Alternatively, Sylvain might just not be as good at hiding his feelings as he thought he was. Maybe it's both. Maybe he'll regret opening his mouth once he's a bit more lucid.

As they settle into bed, he considers that maybe it doesn't matter.

"Don't think I've ever been so grateful to get to sleep on such a shitty mattress," Sylvain says with a yawn.

Dimitri nods, stretching his arms above his head. "Truly," he replies. "Whatever ridiculous state my hair ends up in tomorrow is a small price to pay."

Why would his hair-? It takes Sylvain a moment to remember how unruly Dimitri's hair can be if it air dries after he washes it, to say nothing of what it might be capable of if he were to sleep with it still damp. (It's kinda cute, honestly. Dimitri already has a little bit of a puppy thing going on, what with the everything about him, and fluffy, wavy hair only emphasizes it further.) He sits up and leans over the edge of the bed to grab his bag. "Here, I think I brought my hair dryer..."

"My friend, I promise you that I will fall asleep with it in my hand if I try," Dimitri laughs. "I can survive a day of looking like a sheepdog."

Sylvain pulls the hair dryer out of his bag, absently toying with the wire. "...You want me to do it?"

"I... It's a tempting offer, but surely you are just as tired as I am-"

"It's fine," Sylvain insists. "It won't take long. I owe you for making you worry so bad, anyways."

Dimitri frowns.. "All that I wanted was for you to tell me if something was wrong, and you did. You don't owe me anything."

"Okay, so then I'm offering because I want to. If you really wanna just go to bed, that’s cool, but I promise I don’t mind.”

It takes a moment, but Dimitri’s hesitation ends up melting away. “...If you’re sure.”

Sylvain rewards him with a grin and pats the spot in front of him. “Definitely. C’mere, buddy.”

Dimitri obediently scoots over; Sylvain props him up with a pillow and, after plugging the hair dryer in, gets to work.

The monotonous hum of the dryer on its lowest setting combined with the steady patter of rain overhead feels like an auditory blanket, a gentle swath of sound that’s insulating the two of them from the rest of the world. It doesn’t take long for Dimitri to start to sink against him, for his eyelids to start to droop, and any lingering chill that Sylvain might’ve otherwise still felt is chased away as he’s warmed by their shared body heat. “You doing okay? It’s not too hot, is it?”

Dimitri hums in response. “Feels nice.”

“Good,” Sylvain says quietly. He lightly rakes through Dimitri’s hair with his fingers, pleased to find that there aren’t any knots. “I think you’re just about set.”  
  
Dimitri sits himself up with a bit of effort and a stifled yawn. “Thank… Thank you, Sylvain.”

“No problem.” And as he watches Dimitri settle himself back down on his side of the bed, a traitorously soft part of Sylvain’s mind thinks that he looks remarkably cuddly right now- that Dimitri, all sleepy and sated, would probably feel very nice to be held by.

He’s able to keep those thoughts at bay as he unplugs the hairdryer and switches off the bedside lamp. Once he’s laid down, though, mere inches away from an incredibly inviting warm body, whatever resolve he had crumbles like a house of cards. He closes the gap between the two of them before he has a chance to consider that his actions might have consequences.

Consequences like the immediate way Dimitri pulls him closer with an arm over his shoulders.

Sylvain mumbles his goodnight and allows sleep to claim him.

-

Sylvain counts his blessings when he wakes up. It’s the next day, for one thing, saving him the trouble of having to figure out when they could afford to keep themselves awake for long enough to get their sleep schedules back in order. The rain has subsided. And Dimitri-

Dimitri is sound asleep, warm and solid beside him. He’s still got Sylvain in a close (but far from uncomfortable) embrace, one arm over his torso holding the two of them together. It’s not the first time they’ve ended up like this - Dimitri is a very clingy sleeper, as he’s learned - but there’s a newfound intimacy to it that hasn’t existed before.

Sylvain really should get up. They have places to be, a schedule to keep- even though he'd purposely laid things out to allow for a few minor delays here and there, they shouldn't push their luck. But Dimitri is just so _warm,_ and Sylvain is just drowsy enough to be able to ignore his better instincts and huddle closer. He hasn't felt this peaceful in a long time, and he'll be damned if he doesn't savor every moment of it that he can.

Hazy, half-conscious slumber overtakes him before long. Not that he puts up much of a fight.

-

The next time he's roused, it's because the space heater he's sharing a bed with is trying to get up.

"Dimitriiii," he whines, weakly attempting to pull him back into the confines of the blankets.

Dimitri's voice is still rough with sleep when he laughs. "We cannot stay in bed all day, my friend."

Sylvain groans and rolls over onto his back. "A real friend wouldn’t be leaving me to suffer all alone like this.”

“Such hardship,” Dimitri replies, extricating himself from the bed. “But I have faith in your ability to endure.”

Sylvain throws a pillow at Dimitri’s back.

-

“This is a bad idea.”  
  
“It’s a _fantastic_ idea.”

Dimitri sighs. “I do not understand why you are so keen on the idea of me consuming _‘the hottest burger this side of the Mississippi’_.”

“We’re here to make memories, buddy.”

“We have already made a number of wonderful memories together,” Dimitri says with a level of sincerity that 1. feels very out of place for a crowded burger joint and 2. sends a giddy little rush of satisfaction running through Sylvain’s chest. This guy is gonna be the death of him.

“And now is a perfect time to make more,” he replies. “C’mon, we both know you can do it!”  
  
Dimitri looks somewhat pensive. “Isn’t it rather dishonest for me to attempt to win a prize for eating spicy food when I will barely be able to taste it?”

“The prize is a t-shirt and your photo on a wall, you’re not committing tax fraud.”

“...Have I ever told you what a poor influence you are?”  
  
Sylvain beams and calls over their waiter.

The ease and indifference with which Dimitri finishes the ghost pepper-laden hamburger goes down in legend at that little restaurant. Sylvain sends a picture of him, flustered under all of the attention that his success brought and holding up his commemorative t-shirt, to the group chat.

-

“I think that was the second sign I’ve seen for a fair they’re holding around here. You wanna check it out?”

Dimitri looks up from his book. “That might be nice. I don’t believe I’ve been to one in quite a long time.”  
  
“Then it’s a date,” Sylvain jokes with a grin as he turns down a road as directed by the signs.

Dimitri smiles back and doesn’t correct him.

They’re directed by a volunteer in a neon vest off of the main road and into a field that’s serving as a makeshift parking lot; the scent of deep fried odds and ends is wafting through the air as they get out of the car. Sylvain catches Dimitri bouncing on his heels as he waits for him to dig a bottle of sunscreen out of the glovebox, and he actually _pouts_ when Sylvain insists that they slather some on before entering the fairgrounds.

“We’re both see-through, dude,” Sylvain laughs as he covers the back of Dimitri’s neck. “Unless you _wanted_ to turn into a lobster in half an hour.”

Dimitri flicks a glob of sunscreen onto Sylvain’s cheek.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll thank me later.”

-

It ends up one of the better stops they’ve made- making it on a weekday means they’re avoiding big crowds, and so they’re free to wander about and take in everything the fair has on offer without feeling suffocated. Just as well, because Dimitri apparently gets it in his head that he wants to see _everything,_ and it’s really, really cute. Sylvain is happy to allow himself to be led around.

They’re passing by a high striker when they hear a few disappointed cries from a small gathered crowd- Sylvain looks over to see the man running the game patting someone on the back as they dejectedly set down a long hammer.

“Nice effort, kid, nice effort indeed,” the man says with a wink before turning to address the crowd. “Would anyone else care to put their strength to the test? You could be the first one to get that bell ringing!”  
  
Sylvain elbows Dimitri. “You should give it a shot.”

“Perhaps later, but-”  
  
”You there!”

Oh boy.

The man at the high striker is pointing past the crowd at Dimitri. “Young man! What say you give this fine game a try?”

Dimitri’s eye widens. “Me?”  
  
“Yes, you!” the man crows, striding over and clapping Dimitri’s shoulder. “A fellow as sturdy as you should have no trouble at all. I’ll even let you take a swing for free!”  
  
Some of the people gathered around call out their encouragement. Briefly Sylvain wonders if he should say something, if Dimitri’s getting a bit too overwhelmed. As it turns out, he doesn’t need to.

“If you are offering, then I will accept.”  
  
“Fantastic! Right this way, right this way.” Sylvain watches as Dimitri is pulled to the front of the crowd and is given the hammer. The high striker’s tower is brightly colored and fairly tall, with demarcations starting at “baby” and reaching all the way up to “superman” just below the bell. “It’s very simple- all you need to do is hit this pad with that hammer as hard as you can, and if you ring the bell, you win!”

Dimitri nods, readjusting his grip on the handle a few times. Once satisfied, he squares his shoulders, draws the hammer up and back and in an instant slams it down-

The puck rockets up the tower and splits the bell in two. There’s a beat of silence, and then the crowd loses their minds.

Sylvain is smiling as he snaps a quick photo of the broken bell.

Dimitri is given two vouchers for one of the drink stands that opens at nightfall by the shell-shocked game operator, and their day continues on.

-

There’s a big, plush lion hanging from the prize wall behind a skeeball-looking game with a relatively short line. It is a very cute lion. Logically, Sylvain knows that it’s a cheaply produced reward for a most likely rigged game, but… He _did_ say it was a date. So when Dimitri steps away to find a restroom he speeds through ten dollars’ worth of attempts. He finds success just as he hears Dimitri calling out for him, and the man behind the counter hands him his prize.

“Sylvain! There was a poster advertising a fire eater’s act later today, do you suppose we could- what is that?”  
  
Hopefully the smile on Sylvain’s face isn’t as goofy looking as it feels. “He reminded me of you,” he says, holding the lion out.

Dimitri’s eye widens slightly as he takes the toy in his hands. “...Is this for me?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a date if I didn’t win you a shitty carnival prize.”  
  
“There was no need to- Oh, but he is rather cute, isn’t he,” Dimitri says quietly. He gives it an experimental squeeze and, apparently satisfied with how it feels, rewards Sylvain with a bright smile. “Thank you, my friend.”  
  
Sylvain thinks that the heat must be getting to him, because he’s definitely not blushing. No sir. 

The rest of the afternoon flows on in hazy, comfortable leisure, interrupted only briefly when Sylvain makes them stop to re-up on sunscreen. If he were a little more sentimental, a little artsier, he might describe the day as a microcosm of all of the best parts of their road trip: warm, lighthearted, _fun,_ undercut with the bittersweet knowledge that it’s a temporary reprieve while he delays the inevitable.

Or it’s just a day at a fair with his friend. And right now, that’s enough.

Families with young children start filtering out as the sun dips lower in the sky, and slowly but surely the crowd thins out into teenagers and adults that are either on dates or in big groups of friends. The stands and rides that stay open start lighting up, colorful LEDs sparkling overhead as shadows grow long. Dimitri remembers the drink vouchers he won, and while they’re waiting in line to redeem them, they figure that a ride on the ferris wheel is as fitting an end to the day as any.

So they go and board, Dimitri’s lion still in tow, and the din of the fairgoers below slowly begins to fade as they’re raised into the sky.

“Sylvain?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“I want to thank you.”  
  
Sylvain tilts his head in question. “What for?”  
  
“For today, of course, but really for this entire trip.” Dimitri absently hugs the stuffed lion as he speaks. “I’ve had a lot of fun, and you make for a wonderful traveling partner.”

Any words that might’ve been on Sylvain’s lips die a quick death when Dimitri, after hesitating for a moment, leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. Oh _fuck._ Is he blushing? He’s definitely blushing. They’re both blushing and Dimitri looks very, very nervous. Before Sylvain can do or say anything in response, though, the car suddenly jerks and sends Dimitri lurching nearly entirely into Sylvain’s lap. Frozen in shock, they hear a voice through a megaphone call up to tell them that the ferris wheel’s motor is stuck.

Dimitri and Sylvain look at each other for a few seconds before breaking down into laughter.

“Well,” Sylvain says, leaning back and ever so casually wrapping his arm around Dimitri’s shoulders, “if I’ve gotta be stuck up here, at least it’s with good company.”  
  


-

It’s over two hours before they get moving.

They end up falling asleep while they wait.

(It was a good date.)

-

Crossing the state border into California the day before the wedding hits like a bucket of cold water. For all of the hours they’ve spent in a car with not enough leg room, their excursion across the country still feels like it passed in the blink of an eye. And as stupid and sappy and sentimental as it sounds, Sylvain thinks that this is going to be something that sticks with him for the rest of his life.

He’s still unsure about the future. He has no idea what life is going to look like once he’s back home. He knows that he can’t run forever, and yet if the only consequence of doing so is ruining his own life, then… Well. The temptation is there, to say the least.

If crying in the rain in a diner’s parking lot at 3am taught him anything, though, it’s that he probably shouldn’t keep these things to himself. So he forces himself to open his mouth.

“Y’know, as excited as I am to get to use showers with decent water pressure again, I’m not looking forward to seeing my parents after all this,” he says, as casually as he can. They’re parked outside of a gas station and sitting on top of the car to eat (in lieu of eating inside of it which, although Sylvain has managed to tolerate doing so, he cannot wait to never have to do again).

“That is understandable,” Dimitri replies. “What do you think they might say?”  
  
Sylvain shrugs. “I’m letting them down, how dare I act this way after they’ve provided for me my entire life, what a disappointment I am. Usual fare.”

“ ‘Usual fare’ implies that they would be saying these things whether or not you had left for weeks without telling them.”  
  
“Pretty much.”  
  
“So whatever it is that you’re concerned about them saying or doing would be something you’d have to deal with regardless. The difference now is that the end result, in that you’re doing something for yourself.”

“...You just made me feel a little better. How’d you do that?”  
  
Dimitri laughs lightly. “It is easy to lose perspective when considering something on your own. I find that sometimes it helps to have someone else restate the question at hand, as it were.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Sylvain sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You… I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but I admire you. A lot. After all the shit you’ve been through, still trying your best- I hope you give yourself credit for how incredible that is.”

“It is... still difficult sometimes,” Dimitri admits. “It is difficult to accept that what I am doing is good enough. But I can at least say that it’s much easier to focus on the fact that I believe in your sincerity.”

“You’re good enough,” Sylvain says automatically. “More than good enough.”  
  
Dimitri isn’t wearing his eyepatch, so Sylvain can see him close both of his eyes as he smiles. He’s bathed in low, warm daylight, and he looks beautiful. “As are you, my friend.”

  
  
...Oh. Oh, he’s fucked.

Sylvain realizes, sitting there, that he might be able to fall in love with Dimitri. He just might.

-

The wedding is fine.

It's better than fine, honestly; it’s just a little difficult to focus on. Thankfully, neither Byleth nor his now-husband Jeritza care much about the pomp and circumstance and ceremony of it all. Sylvain is pretty sure they could’ve gotten married behind a convenience store and neither of them would’ve cared in the slightest.

The reception whirls by in a blur of dancing, drinks, and questions about their journey- yes, they really did drive all the way from Maine, no they aren’t driving all the way back, yes they do think it was worth it. The only incident of note occurs when Ashe bounds up to Dimitri and earnestly thanks him for, evidently, having given him a plane ticket for the nicest flight he’s ever been on.

“You flew him out here?” Sylvain asks as Ashe takes his leave. “That was nice of you.”  
  
Dimitri looks… embarrassed? Nervous? “Y-yes, well, it would have been a shame for him to miss out.”  
  
“Yeah- uh, you okay?”  
  
“I… I’m sorry. I cannot accept praise for this.” Dimitri looks at Sylvain, expression both deathly serious and incredibly apologetic. “I had not intended to purchase a ticket for Ashe. I gave him my own.”  
  
Sylvain blinks. “Your own?”  
  
“Yes. When you proposed your idea to Ingrid, Felix, and I, I’d already bought a plane ticket. But I did not want you to have to travel so far by yourself, so I gave it to Ashe,” Dimitri explains.

It takes a moment for Dimitri’s words to sink in. “So let me get this straight- you _didn’t_ forget about buying a ticket. You were all set to take a cushy flight out here with everyone else. But then you decided to drop all of that to come sit in a car with me for two weeks?”  
  
“I believe we did far more than just sit in a car, but… that is one way of putting it, yes.”  
  
An incredulous smile spreads across Sylvain’s face. “Holy shit, Dimitri. I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He finds Dimitri’s hand and laces their fingers together, gently tugging him towards the dancefloor. “C’mon. One more dance before we go back to our room.”  
  
And so they go.

  
  
-  
  


At some point between leaving the reception and locking their room’s door behind them, Sylvain realizes that he and Dimitri may have been expected to stay in separate rooms. He feels the slightest bit guilty knowing that Byleth and Jeritza are paying for a reservation to go unused, but hey. It’s not as if he’d planned on falling for one of his childhood friends over the span of a few weeks. And speaking of which-

Dimitri, bless him, is muttering to himself as he fumbles with his shirt and tie, having limited success in divesting himself of either garment. It’s a wonder that the buttons at his chest haven’t popped off.

Sylvain figures he shouldn’t leave his bro hanging. “Here, I got it,” he says, gently pushing Dimitri’s hands away so he can get to work.

“Thank you,” Dimitri sighs.

Hm. Maybe putting himself in a situation where he’s sort of stripping the object of his affections wasn’t the greatest idea. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles as he gets Dimitri’s tie loose.

When he attempts to step back, though, Dimitri reaches out and grabs his forearm. “Sylvain, I- I have a question for you,” he says, his voice somewhat stilted.

Hearts can’t actually skip beats, can they? “Sure, what’s up?”

“I’d like to know if… Well.” He looks aside, and there’s a noticeable flush to his cheeks that wasn’t there a moment ago. “I would like to ask if you’d perhaps consent to dating.”

Hearts _must_ be able to skip a beat.

“I understand if you don’t want to, of course,” Dimitri adds hurriedly. “It’s just that... I have found myself thinking of the two of us as a couple as of late, and if that is not what you want then I will need to. Stop doing that.”

Sylvain can’t help it- he laughs. (Really, “consent to dating”? Who even _is_ he?) And Dimitri looks incredibly worried until Sylvain wraps his arms around his shoulders. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”  
  
Dimitri frowns. “P-please do not tease me right now.”  
  
“Aw, what?” Sylvain pouts. “I’m not allowed to tease my boyfriend?”  
  
“Your- wait, does that mean you-”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

The relief on Dimitri’s face is adorable- Sylvain might actually lose his mind if he doesn’t get to kiss him soon. “Thank you so much.”  
  
“No, thank _you,_ ” Sylvain tells him. He cups Dimitri’s face with one hand, thumb running over his cheek, and slowly draws him closer. “May I?” he murmurs.

Dimitri responds by closing the hairbreadth distance between them, and Sylvain is very pleasantly surprised to discover that he does actually sort of know how to kiss. He loses track of where both time and their clothes go; at some point, they end up half dressed on the bed, Dimitri up against the headboard and Sylvain straddling his lap.

“So lovely,” Dimitri breathes.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Sylvain says with a wink. “Now- if there’s anything you want, don’t be shy about asking.”

Dimitri runs his fingers through Sylvain’s hair as he considers the offer, thinking for a few moments before smiling to himself. He leans in to whisper in Sylvain’s ear, hot breath against his skin making him shiver, and makes his request.

“...Nice.”

-

Flying home in a matter of hours after driving for weeks feels comically anticlimactic. Sylvain can’t help feeling a little wistful as he shoves luggage into an overhead compartment on the plane the next day- even though he’d worked out the worst of his nervous energy with Dimitri, there’s a part of him that wishes they were still on the road together.

At least he’s next to Dedue for the journey back; it’s a bit of a tight fit, what with how not small the both of them are, but he’s pleasant company. Dimitri is across the aisle with Annette, and Ingrid and Felix are a few rows behind them. The entire cabin seems pretty full, actually, and there’s still a steady line of people boarding. He figures that if they end up delayed at all, it’s at least a chance to catch up on the sleep he didn’t get last night. As he’s settling down, though, a stewardess’s voice rings out over the dull hum of passengers finding their seats. Sylvain only catches the end of her sentence, but-

“If there are any passengers willing to give up their seats, we are offering travel vouchers in addition to replacement tickets for a later flight. Again, we sincerely apologize for this inconvenience.”  
  
Sylvain and Dimitri catch each other’s eyes at the same time that his phone buzzes with a text from Ingrid.

 _“Don’t you dare.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Hey, ma’am,” he calls out, waving the rather nervous looking stewardess over. “Me and my friend over there might be able to switch for you.” Dimitri nods in affirmation.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she sighs. “If you’ll allow me just a moment, I’ll just confirm that we can get you to your intended destination on time.”  
  
Dedue raises an eyebrow at him as she walks off. “That’s rather generous of you.”  
  
“What can I say,” Sylvain sighs as he leans back. “I’m a very giving person.” He glances down at his phone when it buzzes again- Felix, this time.

 _“You’d better not be doing anything stupid again.”_ _  
_ _  
_ He responds with a heart.

The stewardess returns before long, looking just as nervous as she had earlier. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but the earliest we could get you back to Maine would be in four days time. If you’re still interested, we would be more than happy to offer compensation for meals and lodging.”  
  
Sylvain glances past her at Dimitri. The idea of a few extra days together, especially as a couple, seems almost too good to be true, but he couldn’t reasonably blame Dimitri if he just wanted to get back home as soon as possible-

Dimitri looks back at him over Annette’s head, solemn and serious, and gives him a thumbs up.

Well, shit. Sylvain grins, ignoring the messages now flooding his phone, and looks back at the stewardess. “Sounds like a deal.”  
  
-

It takes a while, long after their trip, after Sylvain’s biological family is out of his life, but he does, in fact, end up falling in love with Dimitri.

-

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is the second dimivain fic I've written that ends with byleth getting married
> 
> as per usual thanks to juju for both her endless patience with betaing but Also for being my partner for my first ever bigbang. everything she drew is so warm and I love it so much
> 
> hmu @ erosindomita on twitter


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